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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562028">Discovering Viscount Jaskier and His Lands</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/merthurlocked/pseuds/merthurlocked'>merthurlocked</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon Ships It, Geralt is turned on by suited and booted Viscount!Jaskier, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Half-Elf Jaskier | Dandelion, Lettenhove Lands are a place of safety, M/M, Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz, post mountain breakup</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:42:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/merthurlocked/pseuds/merthurlocked</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It begins with the bard leaving all he once knew behind,<br/>It starts when he discovers a certain witcher,<br/>It nearly ends when the witcher demands he leaves,<br/>It finishes when the two idiots find one another again, and learn how to stay.</p><p>(Or post mountain, Geralt and Ciri are on the run when they discover Viscount Julian de Lettenhove's lands and find them to be a place of safety that neither want to leave.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>451</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Right Honourable Julian Alfred Pankratz</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello lovely readers, this story is inspired by Jaskier and his noble upbringing, I find it fascinating that he is a 'Viscount' even though I have no real idea on what that means. I thought I would write a story using artistic licensing and make a bamf leader Jask. So welcome to this weird and wonderful world.</p><p>Chapter One is a prelude.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two weeks having past from the descent of the mountain and two weeks into his journey towards the coast, Jaskier was resting his swollen, blistered feet at a rundown tavern. He was fairly hidden in the back of the building, with most of the other patrons having not paid any attention to him as he’d walked away from the bar, pint of piss-poor ale in hand, and sat down on an empty bench. Sequestered behind a wooden pillar, keeping his profile out of the view of the tavern’s door, he settled back against the wall and propped his feet up on the chair opposite him.  He let out a long sigh as he took his first gulp of the rather disgusting tasting beer. <em> Gods, sometimes he really missed having rich full-bodied wines at his disposal all day, every day whilst meandering about in court. </em> He took another sip, then grimaced as the foul-tasting liquid made its way down his throat and settled heavily into his stomach.</p><p>He continued to sit in this way, legs propped out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other stretching out on the brittle looking chair, his back slouched into the stone-clad walls as his hands cupped the tankard resting between his thighs. </p><p>His feet were aching, blistered and red-raw, he knew if he took his worn-down boots off they would most likely be bleeding. His hands weren’t that much better off. Scratched to hell as they were, cracked and dry from being out in the sun too long holding too tightly on to the straps of his bags and lute. His upper body was aching just as much as his legs and feet were. Protesting loudly at him at night whenever he moved positions on the dirt-covered ground that was his bed each night. But none of this hurt and made his soul ache as much as the words currently bouncing round in his head. On repeat. Constantly. </p><p>Those words that woke him up from dreams yelling them at him at full volume, to the whispered mantra following him around as he walked down the side of the mountain, towards any path that looked like it might take him towards the sea. Towards the coast. Away from everything that was up <em>there</em>. Back on that mountain top. </p><p>He really needed to get some proper sleep, in a proper bed, with a proper pillow and a proper blanket, and maybe perhaps he could get a nice warm bath? It didn’t even need to be a very hot one, just a bath with luke-warm water, something to wash off the week’s grime, and the past filled with his regrettable life choices. </p><p><em> Why did he feel the need to fill up any silence with his voice? </em>He couldn’t blame Geralt, not really. The man had clearly just had his heartbroken, <em> again might he add</em>, by the wickedly alluring sorceress. </p><p>And Jaskier for some godforsaken reason, after just witnessing the showdown between them, thought he’d be what? Welcomed? Pulled into a hug by Geralt, because <em>'See, look Geralt, your magically annoying, often trouble attracting bard is still here with you’</em>. He can’t believe how stupid he’d been. He knew at a time like that Geralt would want his space, want to be left alone. </p><p>He should have just quietly picked up his things, said his goodbyes to Borch and told Geralt that he’d go find Roach. Then perhaps he wouldn’t be sat in this tavern by himself, feet blistered to hell, smelling like someone’s poured the entire contents of their towns sewage all over him. Perhaps Geralt would have found another contract by then, another monster to hunt and therefore, get distracted by. </p><p>Then again. Perhaps not. His words must have held some truth in them. They came out too quick and precise to have not been meant in some, <em> small </em> way. </p><p>He raised the tankard to his lips again and drained the contents, before slamming the cup onto the wooden table in front of him, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. His other hand came to run its fingers through his dirt-covered hair, and then both were cradling his head in their clutch as he dragged in deep lung fulls of air. Trying to contain an outburst that his mind was doing its best to let out.</p><p>He let the low hum and murmur of the bustling crowd of peasants and merchants drown out any more of his thoughts, slipping into an easy haze and letting his mind wander. Never straying back into angst territory. He was sick to death of feeling sorry for himself.</p><p>He heard the jingle of the tavern door open and felt a brief gush of cold air enter along with the cause of the disturbance, but did not lookup. </p><p>He was thoroughly daydreaming now, hands resting once again on his lap as he gazed sleepily at the wall right in front of him. Oblivious as a rather elegantly dressed, and lean-looking man walked towards his table after having stayed still to glance over each patron in the building. Upon spotting Jaskier he had unrooted his feet from the ground and begun to walk towards the bard.</p><p>“Excuse me, Sir.” </p><p>The man had reached his table now and was stood by the chair that Jaskier had his feet resting upon. There was no movement from Jaskier, too absorbed in his daydreaming to filter in the rest of the tavern and people around him.</p><p>“Excuse me. But you’re the Right Honourable Julian Pankratz Lettenhove correct?”</p><p>Jaskier suddenly blinked as his ears picked up on those five words that he had not heard directed at him for well over a decade. He turned his head frantically around the room, hoping and praying that luck was on his side tonight and that no one else near him had heard this stranger speak.</p><p>“Keep it down, would you? The whole tavern doesn’t need to know that,” then Jaskier looked up and took in the stranger standing in front of him before saying, “And who’s asking anyway?”</p><p>This man, the stranger, was well dressed in white stockings up to his knees, matched with his stark brown coloured trousers that were attached seamlessly to them, his shirt was a pristine white, with its wrinkles ironed out, and the surcoat he wore was a darker brown than the breaches, yet they too matched the patterns on his doublet well. His shoes were rather unsuited to the treacherous and muddy grounds of Dalvik, and made him stand out like a sore thumb in this crowd of farmworkers and labourers. </p><p>In fact, his entire outfit and the air in which the man held himself, made him stand out. And that was before your eyes even took in the rapier at his side, which just so happened to have a very recognisable sigil engraved onto its hilt.</p><p>Jaskier would recognise the house of Lettenhove anywhere. After all, it was <em>his families own coat of arms.  </em></p><p>“My name is Barnsley Fawcett. I am but just a messenger my Lord. I am here at the behest of the council and Viscount Lettenhove’s own request. I am too-”</p><p>“Hush will you, quieten down,” </p><p>Jaskier was pale-faced now, the colour had drained from him the moment the messenger had spoken. He furtively looked around the tavern once more, before removing his feet from the wooden chair and indicated for the man to take it's place.</p><p>“Sit down, and whisper what you have got to say to me so urgently and do it quietly, please. I don’t need anyone here knowing me by <em> that </em> name.” </p><p>Jaskier breathed out the words hurriedly, side-eyeing a patron sat not two feet away from him, who had looked up after seeing the weirdly dressed man brush dirt from the seat, before sitting down on the chair. Jaskier gave a little eye-roll in <em> ‘what are they like huh? the rich’ </em> and the burly man who had been staring, grunted before turning back to his ale and conversation. </p><p>“Sorry my Lord. I do not mean to out you here. But you are needed back home, you are to come back to Lettenhove immediately as-” the man was clutching tightly onto a slightly crumpled envelope with a mulled-red wax seal, another familiar sight he had not seen for years, and his eyes were widening as he tried to get Jaskier to understand the importance of this unlikely visit.</p><p>Jaskier sighed.</p><p>“-I have a letter here explaining everything. Your father is sick my Lord, and he has requested you to come back and take up the position you were given as your birthright.”</p><p>He gulped at the words, mind reeling, as he reached for the letter. He broke the wax seal with deft fingers and unfolded the paper. His mind couldn’t stop racing as his eyes swept across the page, taking in the words of <em> ‘I am very sick...have less than a moons turn to live...you are the only air….cousin Ferrant has taken up a royal position...Lettenhove needs you’. </em>The words felt heavy in his head, fear and dread filling his stomach.</p><p>He folded up the letter. Placed it into a pocket in the inside of his doublet, took a deep breath in then looked up at his messenger. He knew what he had to do. Whether he wanted to or not. Whether it pleased him or not.</p><p>
  <em>Duty called.</em>
</p><p>“You have a horse and a few men ready and waiting for me?” </p><p>“Of course my Lord, they are just outside, a little ways down the path, Sir. They will be very relieved upon seeing you. We have travelled far and wide, you are not an easy man to find.” </p><p>Jaskier stood up, buttoned up the rest of his doublet, knowing full well who he was about to see would expect him to look a lot sharper, more elegant and all-around less dirty than the man about to walk out the tavern doors and greet his entourage. </p><p>“That was the plan,” he sighed. “Obviously I wasn’t as hidden as I had hoped.”</p><p>“I don’t know my Lord, the name Jaskier, through us off. We had very little to go on, but you know your Country, and it does so happen to have the best intelligence network in the world.” </p><p>“Hmm yes, Redania Intelligence Officers. I bet they asked for a fair price for this information?” Jaskier snorted at the sheepish look on the man’s face. </p><p>He rolled his eyes as the man attempted to mumble out how it wasn’t that much, and that they didn’t have to offer much of their services back in return, but the bard started to tune him out. He had grabbed his bag and his lute and had started to make his way towards the tavern’s doors. This may very well be the last time he’s in a place like this.</p><p>He felt a wave of sadness overcome him as he looked about the room, picking up places where he could imagine himself and Geralt sitting, the witchers back against a wall, front-facing all exits at all times, always on the watch, places where he himself might have trailed along, lute in hand as he crooned out lyrics to his songs. An image filled his mind as he remembered times where Geralt had let him sit on their table, and warble his way through the songs, directing them at his Whitewolf, gaze steady and eyes fixed upon each other. A small smile playing at Geralt’s lips as he attempted to not laugh along with the rest of the crowd at the bard’s lewd and vulgar words.</p><p>He shook his head to clear it. Pushing away from the wave of sadness. He needed his mind to be clear. To be empty of thought. He needed to put his nobleman’s shoes back on, and become the Lord he was brought up to be.</p><p>
  <em>His people needed him.</em>
</p><p>And for once he was okay with it. He had wanted a purpose. Something to do with himself after watching Borch fall from that Mountain top and (not) die, it had put things into perspective. </p><p>He had thought about what he had wanted, <em>who</em> <em>he had wanted</em>, and when he had laid his heart on his sleeve and got nothing in return, he realised he had spent twenty years of his life chasing after something that didn’t want him back.</p><p>He needed to move on.</p><p>And what better way than to hold himself up in his family estates castle, and take back the name he had thrust aside so eagerly after leaving Oxenfurt, take it back and hide behind it.</p><p>Geralt wouldn’t know where to find him or who he was.</p><p>He could start fresh.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Lettenhove Lands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello my sweet, sweet readers, thanks for the lovely comments and kudos, this chapter is from Geralt's pov.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt was not going to admit it to Ciri, but even he was struggling with the pace he had set for the both of them. And if he was struggling then that meant Ciri would be exhausted, and really he was normally good at reading signs of her fatigue but after the near-death experience they had both just gone through, his mind was preoccupied with other matters. </p><p><em>Still.</em> That was no excuse. He certainly would have some making up to do in the near future. </p><p>They had both been travelling on and off the road since they had stumbled upon each other in that woodland. The world had well and truly gone to shit as Jaskier had so eloquently foretold all those months back. </p><p>Hmm. It had actually been more than a year since he and the bard had parted ways. Within that time Cintra had fallen, the battle of Sodden Hill had commenced and he had finally found and claimed his child surprise. </p><p>He had been travelling with Ciri for about three months or so now. Constantly moving from one village to the next, from small open woodlands to large closed off forests. It was never-ending because it had to be. They couldn’t afford to get comfortable in one place, because sure enough someone would put two and two together and figure out that the famous white wolf seemed to have the lioness cub of Cintra by his side. </p><p>In fact just two days ago they had almost been discovered, luckily the bandits who happened upon them in the woods only appeared to have the one working brain cell shared between all five of them. So, he and Ciri (who he’d started teaching how to use a small dagger) managed to incapacitate three, kill one and make the last flee. </p><p>It was by far the worst night the witcher and child had shared, and the unfortunate events meant they too needed to flee, get the hell out of dodge before the villagers heard about the plight in the woods and decided to come looking for answers. </p><p>Geralt thought that it was high time he found a place of safety for his child surprise, find somewhere he could hide indefinitely, wait out the storm together, and perhaps in the meantime train her up. Get answers for the raw power and magic she so clearly held within her. And he knew of just the place.</p><p>Kaer Morhen would make a good spot, and no humans he knew were foolish enough to go looking for it. No maps were good at placing its true location and even if people did find out that Geralt of Rivia had the granddaughter of the now-deceased Queen Calanthe with him, it would take them too long to find the ruins of Kaer Morhen. And if by the time they had, Geralt and Ciri would be long gone.</p><p>However, the problem with choosing Kaer Morhen as his safe place, meant they had a long trek towards it. The easiest route was to go through Redania, past Rinde and Trotogor and head towards the coast. From there he knew he would have to hire a boat or buy his way onboard one, so that they did not need to go through Blavikan, because only the Gods knew what fate would lie there for him. If successful, the boat should get them both to just outside of Talgar where they would need to head straight east to arrive at the ruins that were Kaer Morhen.</p><p>The only problem with this plan though was that he did not know of a town or village that would accept his coin for passage to Talgar. He and Ciri had already made their way from Trotogor and were nearing the coast, they could practically taste the saltwater in the air they were that close. But Geralt did not know this area well, had never been beyond the hilly mountains and into the wide-reaching forests. He always took one contract from the next, heading into towns smack bang in the middle of each part of the continent. This was new ground for him.</p><p>Still, he knew he was heading in the right direction, and he figured if he couldn’t get someone to ship him and Ciri off to the other part of the land, he could probably steal a small fishing boat. Or, if he was really stuck he could try and walk around the outskirts of Blavikan, though he really did not want to have to do that. </p><p>Geralt’s ears picked up on the increased deepening breaths of his small travelling companion and decided that perhaps it was high time they called it a day and found a place to rest for the evening. </p><p>“Okay, we can probably stop here for the night if you’re that tired.” Ciri looked down at him from sitting atop Roach and frowned.</p><p>“I- I would much rather we headed into the town closest if possible?” She asked, a small hopeful expression crossing her features. </p><p>He sighed and was about to explain why it’d be best to stay out of sight and away from people for as long as possible when she continued on,</p><p>“It’s just, I know we need to keep safe and out of the way, but even when we’re doing that, bandits and hunters happen upon us, and <em>well</em>, I’m exhausted and starving and I would just really appreciate some food that’s not boiled or roasted rabbit,” and she ducked her head down, a little embarrassed to be moaning so much. </p><p>She didn’t want to sound ungrateful to Geralt but the past few days had been brutal and she really was exhausted. From the walking and the running, from the constant fear always held within her, to the high emotions always threatening to break out of her. She needed a warm bath and a soft bed, and her mother’s hands to run gently through her hair as she bid her good night. She knew she would not get the latter, but the first two? Geralt could get her those things.</p><p>Geralt sighed again, because he knew there was a truth in what she was saying. Their safety was always threatened no matter where they were, town or inn or woodland or mountainside. He supposed a good night’s rest in a rented inn wouldn’t harm them, especially if they left first thing in the morning. </p><p>“You’re right. We shall head to the nearest village now then.” and with that Geralt marched Roach ahead, tugging on the reins. </p><p>Ciri steadied herself on the horse, letting out a sigh of relief. </p>
<hr/><p>Sometime later, just as they were arriving at the outskirts of a village, Geralt’s medallion started to glow. Not too brightly but it gave off a flicker of light, indicating to Geralt that magic was present. Ciri’s eyes had taken in Geralt’s pause in walking and had shifted to where his own were looking.</p><p>“Why’s it doing that?” she asked.</p><p>Geralt grunted then, “The slight glow means there’s magic here.” Ciri gasped and looked around hurriedly, </p><p>“Does that mean something bad is here or?” her expression of fear looked so resigned, as if she was so used to feeling this way, that it broke Geralt’s heart just a little. He hated for her to have been through so much already at such a young age.</p><p>“No, not necessarily. You grew up with Mousesack, his presence would have emitted the same glow in my medallion and he was good right?” He thinks it best to try and lighten the topic. And really he is right. </p><p>He doesn’t know if the magic here is bad or good or just neutral. It could mean a multitude of things, and the way the medallion sputtered and flickered with a slight glow, made him think the magic here was not nearly that much. Ciri nodded at him, a small sad smile crossing her features.</p><p>“I suppose.”</p><p>They made it through an entry gate where only one guard seemed to be manning it, and not very well as Geralt could see the man’s eyes were shut in a doze. Roach’s hooves on the hard ground seemed to wake him as his eyes flicked in their direction. Geralt thought he saw them widening a bit as he looked from Ciri sat astride the horse then back to him again, but Geralt put it down to him simply being <em>a witcher. </em>The stares he was used to. </p><p>Geralt raised his eyebrow at the man but he simply nodded his head back in a <em>‘in you go then’</em> gesture and so Geralt released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He really didn’t know what he’d have done if the man had turned them away. He was about as ready as Ciri was to drop down on a straw-filled mattress and close off his mind for a few blissful hours. </p><p>But first, food.</p><p>And as if reading Geralt’s own thoughts, Ciri’s stomach rumbled loudly as they made their way through the small keep. She grimaced but caught sight of Geralt’s slight smirk and her own mouth twitched upwards. </p><p>The land around them was filled with small hutches and houses, the streets covered in a sandy ground, bright, colourful flowers edging around all the properties and lining the paths. </p><p>There were people milling about, a blacksmith still working even though it was perhaps settling into the evening. There were smiles and pleasantries exchanged between the villagers and even a few directed at Ciri and Geralt. It was a very pretty village, although Geralt could tell there was maybe not quite so much money in this part of Redania, due to the size of the huts and the clothes that people wore. </p><p>It was a refreshing sight to see after spending many days travelling through the slightly more upscale cities.</p><p>Geralt eventually found what he thought was a sizeable inn that also seemed to serve as the local tavern, and after checking the people over once again, he decided they looked friendly enough. So, he tied Roach to the stalls left open for horses and helped Ciri down. They grabbed the bag attached with their valuables and headed inside.</p><p>The room was small and crowded, the ceiling hung low and the smell of the place was strong. Spilt ale and the sweat from the local tavern goers. But it was warm and inviting all the same. As Geralt went to the barmaid, Ciri found a spot to sit, partially hidden by the doorway. Geralt smiled, He’d taught her well, she’d even left him the seat that was against the wall. </p><p>He easily ordered a room with two beds and a place in the stables for Roach, the barmaid decided to include two meals and jug of ale for a cheap price too. Perhaps this little village was doing better than he originally thought. He made his way back towards Ciri, his hands full with the jug and two cups, the meals would be delivered to them shortly.</p><p>As he sat down, back to the wall, his eyes properly took in the scene before him. At first glance the place had seemed to be filled with peasants and labourers and workers alike, but now, upon further inspection, Geralt noticed there were quite a few folk here who were clearly not human. The place was streaming with halflings, dwarfs, dryads and even most peculiarly of all, there seemed to be a pack of Vran (whom Geralt knew to be a dying out race) so to see so many of them together was unexpected.</p><p>It was almost as if they had walked straight into the Seat of Friendship, but he and Ciri were far from Velen, and as of yet he could detect no signs of druids. Although, this buzzing activity of humans and non-humans mixing together did indeed explain the magic he had felt early. </p><p>Ciri helped herself to a mug and started pouring quite a lot of ale into it, before she could bring it to her lips, Geralt swept it away from her with a pointed brow, her protests were cut short when he tipped some of the liquid out and gave it back to her. She huffed but her eyes were shining with mirth. </p><p>She loved this little game they played, where Geralt treated her as the child she still was. It was nice to be reminded of that sometimes. Though, she did hate it when Geralt wouldn’t let her go on any of his monster contracts. <em>One day, </em>she sighed.</p><p>The food arrived and both witcher and girl dug in enthusiastically, savouring the delicious taste of a stew that did not contain rabbit or rat. The evening light was nearly fading Geralt could see, as he looked around the tavern and set his eyes upon the small windows. Always looking for any signs of danger.</p><p>That’s why he noticed a few suspicious looks thrown his and Ciri’s way, could see that some of the conversations happening in the bar were a little too hush hush for Geralt’s liking. He also spotted some lad dressed head to toe in bright reds and striped blues- and Geralt all of a sudden is taken back to memories of his bard and the vibrant colours he used to don- get up and move towards the doors of the tavern, surreptitiously looking back, eyes flicking to Geralt before hurrying out of them. </p><p>That was decidedly, <em>not good. </em>Geralt tensed and hunched further down in his seat, bent his head forward and spoke to Ciri in as small a voice as he could manage. </p><p>“I think it’s time we went upstairs for the evening.”</p><p>“Wha- why?” and her voice whined a little, but at the look she saw on her guardian’s face, she realised it was a losing battle. </p><p>She got up with him, grabbed her cup and drained it, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, then turned to pick up their bags</p><p>“We’ll go to our room, then you’ll stay there as I take Roach to the stables and grab the rest of our stuff okay?” She nods at him, and Geralt’s hand is gentle on her back as he leads them around the wooden benches and tables. </p><p>It’s only as he gets closer to the archway leading to the staircase, that he picks up on the changed atmosphere within the room. It’s almost silent as the villagers ears all seem to be pricked towards the windows and doors. All heads are turned and faces contorted in concentration, and then just as suddenly as the silence washed over them, there is a flurry of activity. </p><p>People stand up abruptly and hurry towards the windows, eager eyes hungrily devouring the sight outside. And now that Geralt is listening out for it, he can hear the sounds of hooves approaching and then stopping. Can hear the whistle of wind, and then the sounds of two feet landing with a soft thud on the ground. Geralt’s eyes zeroed in on the front door, body tensed as he moved Ciri to stand behind him.</p><p>The door opened and revealed a man wearing pressed brown breaches, with cream stockings going up to his knees, pointy brown shoes, and a very clean shirt which held no wrinkles. Clearly there <em>were </em>people who had a bit of money residing in this village. </p><p>The man smiled briefly at the crowd of people, and Geralt tried his best to drown out their excited murmurs, not having the time to listen because it appeared the man was here to see a specific person. Specifically,<em> him.</em></p><p>“Ahh, great fortune, you are here after all,” he paused to take a breath and then his nasally voice was once again speaking, “I am Barnsley Fawcett, Mr Witcher, I am here as a mere messenger for the great Lord Lettenhove,”</p><p>Geralt really has no fucking clue who this Lettenhove is, or what he’s done to acquire this attention. His face must obviously show this as Fawcett hurries on with his speech.</p><p>“I- er, I am here to ask that you come outside at once and meet with the Viscount as he wishes to meet you.” the man stumbles through his words, his eagerness now turning to a dawning comprehension as he takes in exactly who, <em>and what,</em> he is talking too.</p><p>“If he wishes to meet with me, he can come in here and do so.” This elicits shocked gasps of horror and tuts from the patrons in the bar, Ciri meanwhile simply giggles behind Geralt’s back.</p><p>Fawcett, bless him, only stumbles a little, his features turning into a small frown, sharp nose pointing up as he sniffs.</p><p>“I may only be a messenger but I take my duties seriously,” his hand now hovers over his little rapier that is belted to his side, and Geralt holds back a snort, because really? A rapier? What the hell kind of damage will that do?</p><p>“You have been requested to meet with the Lord and you shall do as he says.” Then he lifts his head even higher, clearly thinking this little display is enough to get Geralt to do as he bids.</p><p>“Hmm.” </p><p>And okay, Geralt is really not in the mood for a tavern fight or brawl to start, really has little energy to do much more than exhale out through his nose and wrap a hand securely around Ciri’s shoulders, keeping her somewhat tucked up against him as he nods at the pompous man and follows him out the door. </p><p>The sight that greets him is very perplexing. </p><p>Out in front of him on the sandy grounds, holds an entourage of escorts sat astride some of the most beautiful and powerful looking stallions Geralt has ever seen. </p><p>Bodyguards form a ‘v’ shape, with the men at the back donned in unyielding silver armour with dark blue cloaks attached at the back. Their faces are covered by a helmet that has a front-facing hinge, most of which are down, only one or two of the soldiers, or are they knights? Have their’s up and open.</p><p>Geralt’s eyes now flick towards the two people at the front of the ‘v’ , the ones who are clearly the Viscount’s right-hand men. Except they are <em>women.</em> Very beautiful women, that if looks could kill, they most certainly would be.</p><p>The one on the man’s right, was fairly pale in colour, brown freckles littering what little he could see of her face. The rest was obscured by a hooded cloak pulled up and over her head, dirty blonde curls could be seen tucked behind her ears, <em>ahh that explained the mesmerising beauty then.</em> They were very clearly <em>elven</em> ears. </p><p>The rest of her was covered in tight leather armour, a blue chemise mostly overshadowed by the many sashes covering her chest and shoulders. Her boots were a deep brown, bordering on burgundy, matching so effortlessly with the handwoven cloak. In one hand was a beautifully intricate dagger, whilst the other rested atop the honey-coloured mare’s head. She was smirking at him.</p><p>The woman on the left was not gazing at him quite so humorously. Her expression was soft and set regally. Her horse was a brilliant white, contrasting heavenly with the rider’s skin tone. The woman’s dark skin shone beautifully and stood out against the earth green tones that she wore. </p><p>A green cloak seemed to also be favoured, perhaps the Lord had a thing for cloaks? But her hood was down and a gold brooch clasped the cloak together over her neck. </p><p>Her legs were covered in similar-looking dark brown leather, matching that of her warrior sisters, and tucked tightly into knee-high boots. At her side rested a sword, sheathed but her hand sat atop the hilt, ready. Behind her back was a set of arrows tipped with light speckled feathers and a long arching bow, all within an easy reach. </p><p>But neither of these two women had the same effects on Geralt as the man currently straddling by far the most beguiling horse of them all. His mare was inky black, the saddle pads matching that of the owner’s own clothes, yet they seemed to have been made in a darker blue. </p><p>The man himself wore a light blue cloak with white cotton stitched all around it, detailing patterns and designs that Geralt would have to walk closer to in order to really see what they were. It was fastened securely around the man’s neck, hiding what clothes he had on underneath, and unlike his entourage, <em>his </em>had no hood. Just a pointed bit of fabric at the back of his head. </p><p>His feet rested comfortably in the stirrups, his thighs hugging the horses body snugly, whilst his hands held loosely onto the reins. He also appeared to have a rapier at his side, but this one seemed to be grander in its nature, a bigger sigil with what Geralt supposed was the Lettenhove’s Coat of Arms. </p><p>However, it was the <em>eyes</em> that had Geralt routed in place. </p><p>He’d recognise those bright cornflower blues <em>anywhere.</em></p><p>Jaskier was looking healthy, healthier than Geralt had ever seen him. His cheeks were flushed a slight pink and his hair looked as soft as ever. He was honestly breathtaking to behold. Geralt gulped as he realised just how much he had missed the sight of his dear bard.</p><p>“Geralt, when I was told that a Witcher had entered my part of the land, I knew I had to come down at once to see for myself,” He paused, and let his eyes rake over the witcher, causing Geralt’s body to jolt a little, "I must admit I am quite pleased that it’s you…well, I will be.” </p><p>Jaskier tilted his head adorably at him, a smile threatening to take over his face. Geralt on the other hand was just confused. He had not missed the part where the bard had said <em>‘my part of the land’</em>, since when did Jaskier own anything other than his lute and his unruly sense of self?</p><p>“Jaskier what-” but he was cut off from asking more by the raising of an elegant hand. </p><p>Jaskier stopped him with nought but a hand gesture and an aloof look. “Please we have much to discuss, dear witcher, things that should be spoken away from prying eyes.” He said as his eyes flicked towards the audience that had gathered at Geralt’s back. </p><p>Geralt watched as Jaskier smiled benevolently at his crowd, waving at a few before turning his attention back to Geralt and the girl at his side. The witcher did not miss the looks of adoration and glee upon many of the taverns patrons.</p><p>Ciri stood clenching Geralt’s side, mouth open a little in shock at the man before her. She appeared to recognise the man slightly, whether from tales she had heard surrounding him and his adventures, or perhaps from her time growing up in Cintra.</p><p>Upon watching Geralt’s attention focus briefly on Ciri, Jaskier too looked down at her and this time the smile that graced his features was full and bright as ever, and if Geralt was reading it right, there seemed to be pride shining from the bard's eyes. </p><p>“And this must be the daughter you told me about.” He wasn’t an idiot either, Geralt thought.</p><p>He obviously knew to keep certain bits of information hidden, must know about what dangers of simply saying a small girl’s name could bring. His arm around Ciri tightened, but his body relaxed slightly, now knowing Jaskier wasn’t about to out her.</p><p>“Come, dear sweet girl. You can ride with Ranéeglua,” and the bard tipped his head in the direction of the green-clothed women, who upon hearing her name smiled sweetly at the lion cub. “And you Mr Witcher, I suppose your horse will be around here somewhere? I have missed her some.” </p><p>Jaskier’s eyes darted around the keep, trying their best to pick out Roach. He subconsciously patted his own horse’s head as he talked about missing another. Geralt watched amused but then grunted out,</p><p>“Ciri will ride Roach. I am sure you are…capable ma'am, but I think Ciri would be more comfortable on a horse she knows.” He omitted that he too would also feel more comfortable with that.</p><p>“Ahh but then that leads you with no horse darling.” Why did Jaskier sound so smug about it?</p><p>“That’s fine,” he grunted, “I shall just walk.”</p><p>“Oh but it is miles from my estate, and your poor feet must hurt some. Come you will share my horse. After all, it’s plenty big enough for two, and <em>I don’t mind </em>sharing.” That was definitely a pointed barb directed at him, and well, <em>fair,</em> Geralt thought. </p><p>He nodded, too exhausted to fight. His mind still reeling from discovering that Jaskier for all intents and purposes seemed to be a bloody Viscount! Appeared to now own land? And really if Geralt wasn’t so tired he may have questioned this all further. But he really needed sleep, and he supposed he’d get his answer eventually.</p><p>The messenger boy from before had gone and collected Roach, brought her around and in front of the witcher. His bags and belongings were still very much attached to his horse and from what he could tell had not been tampered with. He helped Ciri up, shared a glance with her, but shook his head, willing her to understand that he did not want her to speak right now. Needed her to keep herself as quiet and hidden as possible.</p><p>He may trust Jaskier with his life, but he couldn’t help but remember they had not parted on good terms. The bitter memories still played in his head at night, churning his stomach with deep regret. And though he knew Jaskier wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t ever hurt a child, especially not <em>his. </em>He did not know or trust the people Jaskier had at his back.</p><p>He patted Roach on the back, nodded his assent at Ciri, then walked towards the big black horse that Jaskier so gracefully straddled. Barnsley Fawcett tried to help Geralt up but he only glared and let out a small growl which had the man scurrying backwards. He could hear Jaskier snort. </p><p>Then he pulled himself up and floundered. </p><p>He had no clue where to put his hands, the space between them on the saddle was small, practically none existent, and there was nowhere on Jaskier’s stupid clothes to grasp firmly. He wanted to wrap his arms around the bard but did not know if they would be welcomed.</p><p>Jaskier simply murmured under his breath quietly, so that only he would be able to hear, “It’s okay, I won’t break.”</p><p>Geralt huffed out a breath then reached his arms around the slim waist. He felt what he thought might be a knife or a dagger strapped along the bard’s left hip, and this seemed to make his insides quiver a little. He gulped the heat back down, then clasped his hands tight together, securing his hold on Jaskier. </p><p>“Right, that’s us all ready then. Let us move on.” Jaskier’s voice held a confidence that, although had been present before, it was strange to hear it being used to command men and women alike. And command it did. </p><p>Barnsley Fawcett hurriedly jumped up on to his mottled brown mare and made haste to get back into the formation the entourage took.</p><p>The two warrior women held close to Jaskier, their heads high, eyes gleaming as they looked straight ahead. Ciri and Roach shifted to following just behind Jaskier’s mare, and then the rest of the soldiers rallied in behind them.</p><p>Jaskier looked up one last time at the crowd by the tavern, smiled dutifully at them and waved. They all waved and cheered back, wishing him well, as his entourage closed in around him and finally shrouded him from their view.</p><p>Jaskier’s head turned back to the road straight ahead and one hand came to rest upon Geralt’s clasped ones.</p><p>“I promise you’ll like it here.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter will be a small little interlude showing what Jaskier and his bodyguards were up to right before Geralt wandered into his lands.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. An interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a small interlude between Jaskier and his favourite trio. (Takes place just before Jaskier goes to meet Geralt)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier was sat in The Solar, a relatively spacious room, with some of his much-loved tapestries hanging up, covering the stone walls where possible. This room had been one of the only rooms he had not needed to ‘do-up’ after inheriting the small private estate owned by his now-deceased father. </p><p>It had once been favoured by his mother and although Jaskier did not have much good to say on the subject of his father, he knows the love he held for his wife was visceral and real. His love and devotion for her, causing him to never set foot in the room again but also to never see fit for it to be changed. </p><p>Practically everything was in the exact same spot from when Jaskier was just a boy, the furniture now dusted and cleaned, the velvet linings refitted and the fireplace mended. </p><p>Everything in it had been ‘spruced up’ a little and even some of Jaskier’s own things had made their way into the room; his lute which he still managed to play most nights- even if his only audience was that of his messenger and bodyguards- his favourite books on poetry and prose, his lyric pad with his preferred feather pen, one or two paintings he’d had commissioned and most importantly a little cabinet stocked with his beloved <em>Fiorano wine.</em></p><p>But everything else was the exact same. And this Jaskier was glad for. It meant when things were a little tough for him; his duties as a Lord and Viscount becoming overbearing, or perhaps memories of a life he missed deeply reared its head and all Jaskier could do was drown in them, this room became his solace. </p><p>Currently, both Arni and Rané were sat with him, his head resting in the latter’s lap whilst his feet were tucked up under Arni’s thighs. He wiggled his toe at her for which she glared at him and slapped his prodding foot away.</p><p>“Ugh, stop it, Julian, you’re more annoying than a buzzing fly I swear it.”</p><p>He simply laughed at this, winding up the people he loved was on the top ten list of fun things to do. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the knife she was skilfully sharpening. </p><p>Rané snorted out loud and Jaskier turned his head in her lap to look up into her beautiful face to see what exactly had caused the outburst. She flicked her eyes down and away from her book and shrugged, gesturing to the thing she was reading. </p><p>“Enjoying that are you? Surely you’re nearly done with that author? You must have read all the books in his collection by now.” And Jaskier’s voice is teasing but he can’t quite mask the awe that’s shining through. He’s always loved people who were passionate about the things they loved and were unabashedly proud of it.</p><p>She glanced away from the book again and let out a little sigh, her face looking unimpressed but her free hand continued to play soothingly in his hair, “I can’t simply go back and re-read those that I love?” she asked.</p><p>Jaskier beamed up at her, “Of course you can. Why else do you think I go back and play my old songs? It’s not because people request them- <em>well,</em> okay it’s partly that, but also, it’s because I loved them once, and a part of me will always love them.”</p><p>“You’re sure you’re talking about your songs there and not something else, specifically some<em>one </em>els- <em>hay-” </em>Arni was cut off by Jaskier stabbing all his little toes into her thigh, digging in tight.</p><p>“-alright, <em>alright-</em> I take it back, I didn’t say anything. Ignore me.” Jaskier let out a little hmph and settled back against his two bodyguards. </p><p>There was silence once again, as Arnianh went back to her knife sharpening, the only sounds were that of scraping metal against metal and the softer ‘swish’ of a page being turned by Ranéeglua. Jaskier hummed noncommittally and closed his eyes.</p><p>He felt peaceful, on the verge of sleep, ready to shut out the world. Thinking that maybe he could postpone some of the duties he was meant to be doing today, or at least draw out the time in-between carrying them out. He needed rest. </p><p>He was tired after another day trying to harness and practice his magic with his elven sisters. Another day, trying to defuse any disputes between the neighbours in his land. Another long day trying to find solutions to the problems that faced not only his land but the continent.</p><p>The world right now was on the verge of war, and he really did not want to have his people partake in it. He and his counsellors of the court were all trying to stay updated on the quarrels of men outside their meagre land, stay updated and try to be prepared for it. </p><p>If Jaskier could help it, his land, being so far out and away from the major cities in Redania- as well as being considerably smaller -would hopefully be overlooked and forgotten about when the continent decided to erupt into a relentless battle between the powerful. </p><p>And if not, he hopes they’ll be overlooked for quite some time before they are called upon to fight in whichever side Redania pledges their alliance too. </p><p>Jaskier was no idiot, and though his war and politics skills had been rusty, more than a year had passed since his taking up of the position of Viscount Lettenhove. He was now well versed once again in the histories of the continent and more specifically the on-going feuds between the mighty and powerful cities. Give him some more time and he might very well be able to hide his land from prying eyes.</p><p>Give his people the safety they need to continue cohabiting in peace.</p><p><em>Or,</em> perhaps not. </p><p>He was suddenly jolted back to the land of the living when the door to his Solar room was hurriedly pushed open, emitting a loud creak as Barnsley Fawcett came rushing through. </p><p>He was panting and red in the face, his body frantically trying to draw in quick gasps of air,</p><p>“M-m-my Lord?” and he attempted a bow but merely stumbled over his own feet, still quite clearly struggling for air.</p><p>“Barnsley please, I’ve told you about this, you do not need to bow to me, especially when it’s just me and the girls in a room okay?” Jaskier pleads with him, his face exasperated for having to repeat himself once again to his dear friend and messenger.</p><p>“My Lord. I do understand and respect your wishes. However I am afraid I shall most likely continue doing so, I feel much more professional sir.” He looked up into his Viscount’s eyes, his own betraying the slight fear he felt at disobeying his lord.</p><p>Jaskier rolled his own back. “Fine, if it makes you more comfortable I shan’t stop you. Now why the red face and the lack of breath?”</p><p>Barnsley fumbled with his hands before blurting out, “Ahh, yes, of course, right, well you see sir, it’s just that someone has said that they think maybe-”</p><p>“I never thought I’d say this, but Barnsley dear? Do hurry up. You’re disturbing my reading” Rané’s sweet nectar filled voice seemed to startle the messenger out of his ramblings. He cleared his throat and tried again.</p><p>“Right, of course, milady, a person who’s countenance I trust has embarked upon me some interesting information-”</p><p>“Barnsley I swear to the <em>Gods</em> if you don’t get to the point my newly sharpened knives will find themselves target practising on you.” <em>Ahh, you can always rely on Arni to threaten harm and disembowelment,</em> Jaskier thought.</p><p>“There is a Witcher that fits your description of the white wolf, currently sat inside the Sweet Orchards, my Lord.”</p><p>“Shit.” Both Rané and Arni say in unison, their heads turning swiftly towards their friend. They watched his face pale, saw him breathe in quicker and shared a glance with each other.</p><p>Jaskier however, simply breathed in deeply then out. Closed his eyes and tried to let the little spark of warmth that his messengers words had created, fall back and bury itself away again.</p><p>He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped to one day see the Witcher. To see him come across this patch of land that Jaskier had put his broken but still-beating heart and soul into. Wanted to see Geralt’s reaction upon seeing him do something worthy, seeing him as more than just an annoying travel companion who only seemed to cause trouble. </p><p>But now that the time was <em>here,</em> he didn’t know if he was ready to face him.</p><p>He did not have much time to ponder this though. And if Jaskier had learned anything from his life, it’s that barreling headfirst into something wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, sometimes it brought you a song that would earn your fame and a friend that you would stay loyal to no matter how much of a bastard they had been to you.</p><p>He stood up from his seated position and nodded his head at his companions.</p><p>“Time to go get my Witcher back.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter will feature Jaskier and Geralt having that long-awaited talk.<br/>Come follow me on tumblr at <a href="https://merthurlocked.tumblr.com/">merthurlocked</a></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As you can see Jaskier has been a naughty boy neglecting his noble duties, it's time he went back and took charge of his meagre kingdom.<br/>Comments and Kudos are appreciated,<br/>Also, come follow me on Tumblr at <a href="https://merthurlocked.tumblr.com/">merthurlocked</a><br/>I would very much love to chat about our boys &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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